


Stranger

by Bad_boy_supreme_on_fire



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: AU, M/M, One Night Stand, i have no clue what to tag this tho im sorry, minewt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_boy_supreme_on_fire/pseuds/Bad_boy_supreme_on_fire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Newt makes it out of the pulsing crowd and walks to stand next to him, the man by the bar meets his eyes. Newt grins at him, confident. <br/>“Hey, handsome”. <br/>The reaction on the Asian man’s face is exactly what Newt was hoping for, because he returns the grin with a hint of charm and cockiness, as he looks Newt up and down. <br/>“Hey”. <br/>Newt nods in the direction of the dance floor, where every inch is covered in people trying to find some space to move to the beat of the music. <br/>“Wanna dance?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> hmm, im not so sure if this is any good at all, it's awesome if you leave a comment and tell me what you think!

The music is hammering so violently on Newt’s eardrums, he almost feels like he cannot hear it. People are pressing in from every direction, but the smell and heat and constant pressure of bodies does not really bother him, at least not after a few drinks. He is twisting through the mass of people, towards the man he has spotted by the bar, the man with black hair and bronze skin who is chatting casually with another man. Hopefully, Newt thinks, just his friend.

He vaguely recognizes the song that is currently beating itself into his skull, but he cannot remember the name.

As Newt makes it out of the pulsing crowd and walks to stand next to him, the man by the bar meets his eyes. Newt grins at him, confident.

“Hey, handsome”.

The reaction on the Asian man’s face is exactly what Newt was hoping for, because he returns the grin with a hint of charm and cockiness, as he looks Newt up and down.

“Hey”.

Newt nods in the direction of the dance floor, where every inch is covered in people trying to find some space to move to the beat of the music.

“Wanna dance?” he asks, almost shouts, but not really, because the music is not as violently loud over here.

 

 

He moves through the mass of bodies again, this time with a man in tow and a grin on his face. They find the center of the floor, where the crowd is thick and the air is absent, and the beat seems to move their bodies however it wants. Newt moves closer, and in any other situation it would have been too close, but not here, not now, not with this man’s hands on his hips, and not with this man’s body pressed against him.

His breath is alcohol and his skin is sweat and his hips are heat and his eyes are black, and Newt is sure he is breathing poison and touching something toxic. He does not want to leave without it.

 

 

The next thing he knows, Newt is in a cab – he thinks so, at least – with this pretty guy’s tongue in his mouth, with this man’s hands on his thigh and in his hair. Newt’s own hands are occupied in handfuls of black hair, and he does not care where they are going, he just hopes they will be there soon.

There is an elevator, but Newt barely registers the journey up because he is busy grinding against a stranger he does not know the name of, busy tasting his mouth and breathing his breath and touching anywhere he can reach.

There is also a door, but the man with the black hair can barely unlock it because he cannot keep his hands to himself, and neither can Newt.

He is not sure whether he discarded his shoes and jacket in the hallway or the bedroom or on the way there, and he could hardly care less. All he knows and cares about, is that he is kissing this handsome stranger and that this handsome stranger is kissing him, it is that the layers of clothing are no longer in the way, it is that this man is hard and that grinding against him feels like the promise of heaven.

Newt still feels like the music is pounding in his head, and he cannot hear the sounds he knows he is making. It does not matter anyway, what matters is that there is a man on top of him swallowing his breath, licking his skin, letting warm hands travel through his hair, his face, his chest, his belly, between his legs.

The way he moves, and the way he _feels_ , is exactly what Newt wants, and he thinks that if this would be sin he wants nothing but go to hell and stay there.

 

 

When he wakes up, Newt does not have the impression of being in hell, not at all. The sun is shining behind the thin curtains, the room smells like the previous night’s activities, and a stranger is lying next to him on the bed, still asleep.

There is no rush in getting up yet, and Newt remains still for a few minutes and studies the man next to him. Half of his face is hidden in the pillow, but Newt looks at what he _can_ see. His dark lashes, tousled black hair, the color of his skin, the lines of the muscles on his shoulders and arms and back.

Newt gets up and quietly gathers his clothes, gets dressed, and leaves. As he closes the door of the apartment behind him, he turns to look at the name on the doorbell.

 

Minho Park.


End file.
